Episode 3: Holding On to Memories, Holding Out for Hope

This episode is dedicated to Cheri Shilling

You may notice that this third episode returns again to Mother’s Day. As you read along, I hope you’ll understand why.

Mother’s Day, with its bright bouquets and joyful brunches, always brings a mix of emotions. It’s a day to celebrate, to honor, and to remember. For many, it’s a day wrapped in laughter, gratitude, and the warmth of a mother’s embrace. But for others, it’s a day tinged with longing—for the mother who is no longer here, or for the child who has drifted away.

This year, I joined the ranks of mothers across America who helped move what felt like all 250 million Mother’s Day flowers from shops to living rooms. My son kept the tradition alive (and our vase collection growing), while my daughter called from school, promising that extra pampering was coming my way once she got home for summer—apparently, spa days and foot rubs are best delivered in person!

Even as I enjoyed these sweet gestures and messages from my children, my heart was especially tender, knowing that many spent the day alone. Later that night, I received a phone call from a dear friend, a mother whose son walked away three years ago and hasn’t looked back. Her voice trembled as she told me how she spent the day in silence, holding out hope yet feeling the ache of his absence more sharply than ever. It was hard to hear her pain, and harder still to know there were no easy answers—only the comfort of listening, sharing tears, and letting her know she wasn’t alone. I was grateful to offer a listening ear, even as my own heart broke with hers. That conversation is a reminder of how many parents are waiting, praying, and hoping for reconciliation. In fact, it’s stories like hers that inspired me to begin work on my upcoming book, Ten Letters to the Waiting Parent—a collection of letters about the prodigal son and the enduring hope we hold as we wait for a lost child to return home. This will be available by June 1st, 2026.

This Mother’s Day, I also found myself thinking of all the friends and family members for whom the day is bittersweet. I sent messages to a few loved ones who would be spending Mother’s Day without their moms—each word chosen with care, hoping to bring a little warmth and comfort to the quiet spaces they hold.

One message, in particular, was for Dr. Umeri, whose mother’s recent passing sparked me to write Not At Their Funeral. Her loss reminded me how quickly life can change and how important it is to say what matters while we can. This is the message I shared with Dr. Umeri, Eloho, Elizabeth, Sola, Mabel, Babatunde, and others who spent Mother’s Day without their mothers this weekend:

“Dearest Friend, I’m holding you close in my heart today.

I sense that Mother’s Day may feel especially tender when you’re missing her presence, her laughter, and her love. May your memories bring comfort, and may you feel surrounded by the warmth of her legacy. You are not alone in your grief—her love lives on in you, in every gentle word and cherished moment.

Sending you peace, strength, and gentle hugs this Mother’s Day. 🌹❤️”

Today, I also think of my Bootcamp buddy, Cheri, who faced her first Mother’s Day without her mom, Joy, this year. Joy passed away 14 weeks before Mother’s Day. During the last two years of her life, Joy couldn’t hear or speak, but her love spoke volumes—she hugged, she smiled, and she loved deeply. Cheri reflects on how fitting it was that her mother’s name was Joy, because in those final days, every embrace and every smile radiated pure 'joy.' Cheri holds on to those beautiful memories every day. She comforts herself by saying, “I was sad the day she died, but I know she is rejoicing in heaven.” There is something profoundly comforting in those words, because as people of faith, we know the importance of eternity. It brings peace to say, “She is with the Lord,” and to trust that our goodbyes here are not the end of the story.

This is why I am excited to share about my upcoming reflection book, Preparing Their Hearts, Not Just Their Funeral. This book has been in the pipeline since 2025, just before Father’s Day, and was born out of a desire to help us, as children, think beyond the practicalities of saying farewell. It’s about ensuring our parents are not only honored in death, but prepared for eternity—that their hearts are ready for what matters most. The book explores how we can lovingly encourage our parents in faith, have honest conversations about hope beyond this life, and find comfort in the assurance that those we love can truly rejoice in the presence of the Lord.

If you spent this Mother’s Day holding on to memories—whether you are missing your mother, your child, or both—know that your feelings are honored here. Your love, in all its forms, still matters, and you are not alone.

Share in the comments:

How did you hold on to hope or to memories this Mother’s Day? Your story may offer comfort to someone else who was at a loss on what to do to make the day memorable.

Until the next drop, may love fill your days.

Olumide Evelyn Moronfolu

Follow us on Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/littledropsproject?utm_source=qr